


Queen of Peace

by Keelar



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, M/M, One Shot, don't bash my babes, hinata and sakura are the true vips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:34:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keelar/pseuds/Keelar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata never realised. Couldn’t have known. When she buried her son, she was burying her husband as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> If you're die hard SasuSaku fans or NaruHina fans then you ain't gonna like this fic. You've been warned.
> 
> Also it's angsty. Like overflowing with angst.
> 
> Song that inspired this fic is Queen of Peace by Florence + the Machine.

Queen of Peace

 

_Oh, the king_

_Gone mad within his suffering_

_Called out for relief_

_Someone cure him of his grief_

_His only son_

_Cut down, but the battle won_

_Oh, what is it worth_

_When all that's left is hurt?_

It has been one year, one month, one day, three hours and twelve minutes. She doesn’t count the seconds anymore. Perhaps that is progress, healing. She doesn’t know.

Hinata runs her fingers against the space that should be occupied by her husband, the bed is cool. She should be surprised, or hurt, any of those things, but she is merely resigned. She slips out of bed, knowing sleep will elude her for many hours now.

She creeps across the landing, her feet tapping against the chilly wooden floor. Her body freezes outside her son’s room, her hand hovers over the handle. She wants to enter. She _does_. But she knows what lies within and the thought of seeing it again makes her feel sick.

Will Naruto be curled up on her son's bed, arms wrapped around an old stuffed toy as he sleeps restlessly, muttering Boruto’s name? Or will he be wide awake this time; slumped on the floor surrounded by empty sake bottles, eyes red rimmed and cheeks hollow, staring at an unseeable point? Maybe he’ll be sat on the edge of the bed, muttering to himself, punishing himself, apologising over and over again to her long dead son.

Night after night after night.

In the beginning she tried to talk to him, but he would stare at her with uncomprehending eyes. She would try to convince him to come to bed, would try and lead him out the room but he would snarl at her and say he wanted to stay with his son. As the months turned into a year she tries less and less to convince him.

Hinata’s arm drops away from the handle.

She steps away from the door and makes her way silently along until she reaches Himawari’s room. She slips into bed beside her daughter, holding her tightly to her chest, breathing in her scent and feeling the pounding of her heart.

_Alive. Alive. Alive._

Hinata’s tears dampen her daughter's hair. Himawari never mentions it.

*

The funeral had given Hinata false hope. She realises that now.

It had been three days, three hours, three minutes and twenty six seconds since Naruto had come home carrying their son’s broken body across Konoha’s gates. He had been solid, unmovable. He had assured her the blood had been from those that dared to hurt his family but she knew that most of it was from her broken baby boy.

He had stood tall and proud and spoken of how brave his son had been, how he had honoured his village. How Boruto had sacrificed himself for his teammates, for the civilians. Hinata had pretend the speech had made her feel proud instead of sick, that he could talk of their son as if he was a weapon of the village, a mere shinobi, instead of the beautiful little boy they had nurtured until the age of fourteen.

When she saw the single tear that stained his cheek he anger ebbed away.

They embraced as their son’s name was carved into the memorial stone. Her head pressed into his chest and dampening his shirt. Naruto was stiff but she knew it would be okay. He was still her rock, her strength, they would help each other through this. They would survive this. Together.

Hinata never realised. Couldn’t have known. When she buried her son, she was burying her husband as well.

*

She knocks on the door gently, hoping the occupant won’t hear and she can walk away safe in the knowledge that she tried. She could go back home and lay in her empty bed and pretend that she was the only one that could fix this. The door creaks open and a pair of jade eyes peek out into the night. Hinata’s luck had run out one year, three months, two hours and twenty two minutes ago, so she wasn’t surprised. “

Hinata?” Sakura said, unable to hide the surprise from her voice. They hadn’t met since the funeral.

“Sakura,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “May I come in?”

“O-of course!”

Sakura flings the door open and beckons her inside. Hinata feels her stomach twist painfully as she takes in the warm glow of the home, the lived in feeling. Her home started feeling like a mausoleum many, many months ago.

“Would you like some tea?” Sakura asks.

“That would be lovely,” Hinata says, not in the mood for the beverage but grateful to have something to do with her trembling hands.

Sakura smiles warmly at her, although Hinata can read the confusion in her eyes easily. At one time they were close, but that feels like a lifetime ago, before weddings and children and grief.

“Make yourself at home.”

Hinata sits on the sofa listening to the sounds of Sakura clanging around the kitchen, distracting herself from the pounding in her heart. Her eyes fix upon family pictures. She cannot help the smile that flits across her face at the baby photos of Sarada, with her tufts of dark hair and toothless smile. She was always a beautiful child, Boruto had always cried when they were separated after a play date and it would take Hinata hours to soothe him.

She tares her eyes away from the picture and tries to ignore the bile fighting it’s way up her throat. Instead she lets her gaze settle on Sakura and Sasuke’s wedding picture. Sakura is grinning happily and staring up at her husband with sparkling eyes. Sasuke. Well, Sasuke is somber, but Hinata is used to that, she can’t remember a time when he was anything but.

Except with Naruto.

Her eyes dance across to another wedding photo, this time Naruto has flung his arm around both of the newlyweds, his grin so wide it’s threatening to split his face in two. Hinata can tell that Sakura is laughing even as she pushes one hand into the side of his face. And Sasuke. Sasuke is looking at Naruto with a gentle expression, lips slightly lifted and leaning into the touch. The expression on his face makes Hinata feel uncomfortable so she looks away, wondering why she had never been shown the picture before.

“There you go,” Sakura says, startling Hinata out of her thoughts.

She accepts the cup, “Thank you.”

Sakura sits beside her on the sofa and silence settles between them. It is not uncomfortable and Sakura seems content to sit besides her and idly sip at her tea until Hinata is ready to talk. She is grateful for that as she tries to gather her scattered thoughts.

“How is Sarada?” Hinata asks, groping wildly for something to say while she puts off the real reason for her visit.

“She’s okay…” The _considering_ is left unsaid. “How is Himawari?”

Himawari is...quiet. Withdrawn. Confused. Missing her father. A lonely little girl that needs her big brother. Her lifeline. Hinata cannot say any of these things, maybe she could have years ago, but now Sakura is a stranger.

“Himawari is coping...W-we...We’re all doing the best we can.”

Sakura gives a shaky nod but doesn’t comment any further, her pale fingers begin picking at imaginary lint on the sofa and Hinata knows the woman is uncomfortable. A small spark of rage creeps into her then, that Sakura, supposedly one of Naruto’s best friends, could become someone that is uncomfortable about their grief instead of understanding, accepting.

"How is Sasuke?” She asks, trying to temper the rage within her. Sakura is not at fault here. Nobody is.

Sakura’s hands tighten on her cup, it is only a slight clenching of her hands but Hinata notices it. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been home for a long time.”

Hinata notices the lack of wedding ring on the woman’s finger for the first time. It makes her own burn against her skin, constricting against her flesh like a manacle. It is not the first time she has had to fight the desire to take it off, she wonders when she will finally give up fighting it.

“He wasn’t at the funeral.” Hinata doesn’t mean for it to sound accusing, but it comes out that way anyway.

“No, he wasn’t.” Sakura says, a trace of anger in her voice. “Why are you here Hinata?”

She thinks of Naruto alone in Boruto’s room, her untouchable husband. She can’t reach him anymore, she knows that now, she can admit that to herself despite the pain it brings her. Naruto is lost to her, but maybe not lost completely. She steels herself.

“I want you to bring Sasuke home.”

Sakura lets out a bitter laugh, “If I could bring him home don’t you think I would have already done that by now?” Her laughter beings to sound liked choked sobs. “I love him. I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember but he wouldn’t even come home for me.”

Hinata’s gaze rests on the empty space on Sakura’s finger. She twists her own wedding ring around her finger. True her own marriage may be sinking, whilst Sakura’s is probably already sunk but she can perform this one selfless act for Naruto, one finally gift from wife to husband.

“Naruto needs him.”

“I know,” Sakura says with a sigh, her cheeks streaked with tears. “They’ve always needed one another. I’ve fallen behind again.”

Hinata bristles at that. Yes there’s a sting of failure at her inability to save Naruto from this consuming darkness but she also knows this isn’t her fault, she did all she could, she tried. Sakura tried with Sasuke. But she knows that sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you love someone, sometimes you just have to acknowledge you aren’t meant to be. She doesn’t regret it. She had many happy, bliss filled years with Naruto. She isn’t sure about Sakura.

“You’ve not fallen behind,” she says, surprising herself. “You’ve walked ahead. We’ve left them behind and now...now they only have each other.”

Because it’s true, how much isolation are two women supposed to take?

“I-I’ll get him home, we have a system now, for Sarada, emergency’s only...this probably counts.”

“Thank you,” relief flows through Hinata, Konoha may regain it’s Hokage even if she may never regain her husband. “Thank you so much.”

They sit in silence and finish their tea. Hinata says her goodbyes and returns to the Hyuuga compound. She suspects Naruto doesn’t even notice her absence from their household.

*

She hears of Sasuke’s return a week later.

She doesn’t hear from Naruto.

She only cries once.

*

Sakura corners her and tells her Sasuke has moved in with Naruto. The get drunk together and commiserate.

*

She sees them together once, when she goes to return her wedding ring and house keys. She had gone there with good intentions, but most of her good intentions turn to ash in her mouth these days. Hinata lets herself in, almost forgetting this place isn’t her home anymore. The house is silent. The rooms are trashed, a portrait of rage.

She creeps through the house like an intruder, still unaware that she technically is.

There’s raised voices in the bedroom and she tried, she _does_ , she tries to ignore it but she is a shinobi and her hearing is perfectly honed. There’s the sound of glass shattering - a vase? or perhaps one of Naruto’s numerous sake bottles.

“Where were you?” Naruto’s shouts echo around the house.

Hinata’s heart hammers in her chest because there’s such raw and broken emotion in her husbands...ex-husbands...voice. A part of her still wishes he’d directed, trusted, her with some of that grief. She feels this is an argument the two men have had many times. 

“You were meant to protect him! You were his mentor! I entrusted him to you.”

A sob echoes in the empty house.

Then, softly, quietly. “I know. I failed.”

“He was my son! My son, Sasuke!”

“I know.”

“I thought…” A strangled sound, she doesn’t recognise it as her husband but she knows it must be. “I thought….”

Then there is only the sound of grief. Wailing and rage.

Hinata creeps towards the commotion, hoping the two ninja are distracted enough to ignore her presence. She holds her breath as she presses her eye against the crack in the bedroom door. They are sat together on the bed. No not just a bed. _Their_ bed. The marital bed. Naruto’s head is resting in Sasuke’s lap as he weeps freely. Sasuke strokes his hair in an uncommonly tender gesture. She can hear him whispering to him, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

Shouldering his burden. The thought almost makes her laugh hysterically.

This man, this….plague on their relationship. This constant shadow that she was never aware that she needed to measure up to. God, how could she not have seen? Sasuke looks up then, stares directly at her, one dark eye pinning her in place. She recognises the expression on his face, feels foolish that she never realised it before. This man, this man is so helplessly in love. And maybe, from the way Naruto lets himself be held, maybe her husband feels the same way?

It doesn’t really matter anymore though, even before this discovery she knew that the man she had married was gone. She leaves silently. The ring is discarded on the kitchen table. She doesn’t know if Naruto will even notice it.

*

Two years, nine months, eighteen days. She doesn’t count hours anymore. Sometimes she feels guilty for that, like she’s forgetting her son or not honouring his memory. Most of the time she feels relieved.

She only sees Naruto when she brings Himawari to see him. Sasuke is still in the village. Still living in the Hokage tower. The thought of that only turns her stomach once a week, on her better days she is even happy for them. Her better days are still few and far between however.

She meets Sakura regularly now, it’s nice. They frequently toast those terrible ex-husbands. It is Sakura that helps the festering wounds of Boruto’s death to heal, the companionship and friendship of the other woman helps Hinata in ways she didn’t think possible.

The wounds from Boruto’s death are slowly healing for everyone, or so she hears. People even talk of seeing the Hokage smiling again.

Hinata hasn’t seen it yet. Doesn’t feel like she has to either.

She doesn't hate them any more. Maybe that’s progress, healing.

_And my love is no good_

_Against the fortress that it made of you_

_Blood is running deep_

_Sorrow that you keep_

_Suddenly I'm overcome_

_Dissolving like the setting sun_

_Like a boat into oblivion_

_Cause you're driving me away_

_Now you have me on the run_

_The damage is already done_

_Come on, is this what you want?_

_Cause you're driving me away_


End file.
